


Beginnings I

by sffan



Series: Beginnings [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-10 22:47:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sffan/pseuds/sffan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek gets hurt protecting Stiles. Then there are feelings. And a kiss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beginnings I

**Author's Note:**

> Edit May 11/13: Formerly titled "A Beginning". Then I wrote another one and decided to call the series Beginnings.
> 
> As always, big thanks to emungere for the beta. She rocks.
> 
> I love all the variations on the "how did they first get together?" theme. Here's one. There may be others.  
> Edit May 11/13: there's another. That's why this is now a series.

“Stiles!” Derek calls out as he throws himself across the few feet separating him from Stiles.

The creepy house they’re about to investigate explodes, and Derek hits him like a ton of bricks, hands curled protectively around his head as they hit the ground. Breath knocked out of him, Stiles struggles to catch some air while Derek keeps asking him if he’s okay.

When he’s finally able to speak, Stiles replies, “Except for the 200 pounds of muscle currently crushing me, I’m good.” As soon as Stiles starts speaking, Derek relaxes, face dropping into the crook of Stiles’ neck, and by the time he’s finished answering, Derek has gone completely limp.

“Uh, Derek?” Stiles asks and gets no response. “Derek?” Stiles pokes his shoulder. Derek doesn’t even twitch. Stiles tries to shove Derek off him, also to no avail. Stiles sighs and stops moving. After a moment, he becomes aware of a sharp, stinging throb in his right side. He reaches down to touch it and finds a piece of rebar, that must have grazed him, sticking out of the ground right beside him. The ground feels sticky under his fingers, and he’s suddenly aware of the sharp coppery scent in the air. Stiles recognizes it as blood. And fuck his life that he knows what fresh-spilled blood smells like. There’s way more there than there should be, from the lightness of his own wound. He follows the twisted metal up until it meets Derek’s torso. 

Stiles explores gently with his fingers. The rebar has gone right through Derek and is pinning him to the ground. Blood is flowing heavily from the wound. Stiles presses his hand against it, trying to stop the bleeding, but it just leaks out around his fingers. It occurs to him that if Derek hadn’t heard whatever he heard that made him react, Stiles would more than likely be dead right now. 

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit,” Stiles mutters, trying not to panic. He needs his phone and he can’t reach it, trapped as it is in his front jeans pocket. He knows that Derek keeps his phone in his back pocket, so he reaches for it. It’s a stretch, but he manages. Derek’s jeans are ridiculously tight, and it takes Stiles’ shaking hand a few moments to fish it out.

He calls Scott and tells him where they are. While waiting for Scott to arrive, Stiles tries to assess the situation and find out just how hurt Derek is. Even with the massive blood loss, it’s beyond uncommon for him to pass out like this. He usually just shakes off injuries. As Stiles investigates, he discovers that Derek is covered with debris from the house – bits of glass and wood and steel imbedded in his back. 

“Not a good time to have decided not to wear the leather, dumbass,” Stiles murmurs as he starts pulling out the pieces that he can reach. Derek twitches and moans, but doesn’t wake up. Trapped as he is, and with limited visibility, it doesn’t take long before Stiles has to stop. 

“Don’t you dare fucking die on me, you bastard,” Stiles says, resting his free hand on the back of Derek’s neck. He’s still holding the wound in Derek’s side, and the blood flow seems to have slowed a bit. He hears something over his shoulder and tips his head to see Scott running up, half transformed.

“Holy shit, dude. What the fuck?” Scott says, his whole face going slack with shock.

“A little help here,” Stiles replies. 

Scott approaches and pulls the rebar out. Hot blood gushes over Stiles side and then slows quickly. Scott lifts Derek off of Stiles, and Stiles stands up on shaky legs. He gets a look at Derek’s back and his stomach drops. It’s absolutely shredded. He thinks he can see bone around the fragments in a couple of places. Stiles swallows hard against the bile threatening to come up.

“Oh my god. Shit. Come on, my Jeep’s just over there. We’ve got to get to Deaton’s. We’ll need help getting all that out,” Stiles says.

Scott just grunts and follows Stiles. No matter how strong Scott is, Derek is still bigger than he is and holding him up is taking a toll. They put Derek in the back of the Jeep on his stomach and Stiles breaks several rules of the road getting them to the vet clinic in record time.

Stiles won’t let Deaton look at him until after they’ve dealt with Derek. It takes over an hour to pull out all of the bits and pieces, and through it all, Derek still remains unconscious. After Deaton cleans and binds the deep scratch on Stiles’ side, Stiles pulls up a chair and sits by Derek waiting for him to wake up. Scott and Deaton drift away at some point, but Stiles doesn’t really notice.

Eventually, Derek wakes up. His eyelashes flutter once, twice, and then his eyes open and zero in on Stiles.

“You’re hurt!” Derek exclaims as he sits up quickly. He sways forward, and Stiles is on his feet catching him before he tips off the table.

“Cool it, big guy, this is mostly yours,” Stiles replies.

“Not all of it,” Derek grinds out between clenched teeth, his fingers pulling at the edge of Stiles’ blood-soaked t-shirt.

Stiles slaps at Derek’s hands. “Hey, Mr. Grabby McGrabberson, personal boundaries,” Stiles says as he tries to step away. 

Derek grabs Stiles by the wrists and holds him in place. “Stiles,” Derek implores. “Let me see. I need – ”

Stiles frowns. He’s pretty sure he’s never seen Derek quite like this – so anxious and concerned and not even remotely angry. He stops trying to pull his arms out of Derek’s grip. “O-okay?” Stiles doesn’t mean for it to come out like a question, but he’s just so confused.

Derek’s hands are gentle as they push up his shirt and skim over the gauze taped over his side. There’s a small spot of blood in the center of the white fabric. Derek’s expression crumbles.

“You keep getting hurt,” Derek whispers, his voice cracking with emotion. His hand cups lightly over the wound and suddenly, the nagging pain in Stiles’ side eases as black lines run up Derek’s arm.

“Whoa, dude,” Stiles says, gasping in shock and relief. He knows about this little healing trick from Scott, but it’s still a kick to see it happening. Derek sways and Stiles pulls his hand away from his side. “Derek, stop. You’re not strong enough. I’m fine, nothing a little time and a few Advil won’t cure.”

“You keep getting hurt,” Derek repeats, miserably, one hand coming up to cup Stiles’ face, the other pulling him closer. 

“Derek?” Stiles asks, their faces only inches away. Before he gets a chance to ask what’s going on, Derek’s mouth is on his. It’s soft, and gentle, a slow press of lips that takes Stiles completely by surprise, and ends way too soon, so Stiles wraps his hands around Derek’s biceps and tugs him back in. The second kiss is longer, and devastatingly tender, leaving Stiles reeling when Derek finally releases him.

Stiles stares wide-eyed at Derek, his hand unconsciously drifting up to his mouth. Derek tracks the motion with his eyes and he smiles. A real, genuine smile, with no trace of irony or spite. Something warm flutters and blooms inside Stiles. He’s pretty sure no one’s seen this smile in a long time.

“Wow. I didn’t know your face could do that,” Stiles teases. Reaching out to trace Derek’s mouth with his fingers. Derek grabs his hand and kisses his palm and then curls his arms tightly around Stiles and buries his face against his neck. Stiles wraps his arms around Derek and holds him just as tightly. “For the record, I’m not too thrilled with the way you keep getting hurt, either.”

They stay wrapped up around each other, holding on until Deaton comes in to remind them Stiles needs to get home and changed before his father gets off shift.


End file.
